


Don't Look Back

by Ace_Of_Wands



Category: Firefly
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Simon Tam at the Academy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-18
Updated: 2020-03-31
Packaged: 2021-02-08 10:01:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 14,554
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21474178
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ace_Of_Wands/pseuds/Ace_Of_Wands
Summary: In a ‘verse where Simon Tam attempted to postpone a promising future by taking a job at the school his sister dreamed of attending, it is River Tam that is left to pick up the pieces. Because they are Simon and River, and there is no ‘verse in which either one of them wouldn’t burn down everything to save the other.River Tam must find a way to arrange her brother's freedom while preserving her own. When her parents prove more than a casual hindrance, she takes to the streets, confident that they will not search for her.
Comments: 8
Kudos: 34





	1. Cut (and Run)

River Tam stands in front of the sink in a grungy public bathroom. The face in the mirror is pale and there are dark circles beneath her eyes.

**She raises the scissors.**

_“He’s my brother, papa, we have to help him!”_

_“River, you’re imagining things.”_

**She grasps a chuck of her hair. Snip. **

_“River, if you don’t give up this nonsense…”_

** Dark strands fall from her fingers into the trash. Again. Snip. **

_“Too bright. You know the doctors were always saying she was at risk for a psychotic break.”_

_ “She’s been working herself too hard. That’s all it is, honey. It will pass.”_

_“She’s getting worse, Regan. She can’t be seen in public like this.”_

_ “I know.” A soft sigh. “I know. We’ll do something.”_

**The metal sound of the scissors closing is almost soothing. Snip. Snip. **

_“River Tam! What has gotten into you? Have you taken leave of your senses?”_

_ “Have you?” She snaps back at her father._

_“Honey, calm down.” Her mother says, her voice soft, soothing. “It will be okay. Simon will be fine. Simon is fine. You just need to relax. Get away from things for a bit. You’ll see your brother soon.” _

_ “Yes.” River says, firmly, shoulders squared. “Yes, I will.” _

_There’s a knock on the door. “Wait here, honey.” Her mother says, standing, all grace and beauty. Her hair is well done, River notices._

_ “We weren’t expecting company.” She accuses. _

_“I’ll just see who it is, then.”_

_ “You were.” River says. “Your hair is done, and those are formal clothes.” She glances at her father. “You took the day off.” She notes. “But you’re still wearing dressy cuff links. You hate cuff links. You never wear them if you can avoid it.” _

_ “River.” Her name is said slowly, her father is smiling, though he sounds frustrated. “You really are such a clever girl.” _

_ She’s tense. Voices at the door, she can’t quite make out the words. But there’s a sense of something. Is it determination? _

_ Her mother is laughing as she walks in, there’s a man with her. He’s dressed professionally._

_ “Are you a doctor? You’re dressed like one.” River says._

_“River!” Her mother scolds. “That isn’t polite. You know perfectly well how to greet guests. Show your manners.” _

_ “Don’t embarrass me in public?” River asks, snidely. “This isn’t public. This is our living room.”_

_ “I am so, so sorry.” River’s mother says. “She’s been unbearable since her brother left.” _

_The man chuckles. “Oh, that’s quite all right, Mrs. Tam. I don’t offend easily.”_

_ River raises an eyebrow. Just one. She’s been practicing. _

_The man holds out a hand towards River. “Hello, River. I’m Dr. Smith. I’ve heard a lot about you.”_

_ River keeps the single eyebrow raised. “I haven’t heard anything about you.” She says. _

_“River.” Her father says, his voice a soft warning. _

_ “And I don’t need a doctor.” She says and she stands. “I’m not sick.” _

_“River.” Her mother, this time. “Please.” _

_ “What will you do if I say no?” River asks, conversationally. No one answers, not out loud. But she takes a step back anyway. _

_ “Calm down.” The man says, but he’s fiddling with his watch now, and it isn’t just a watch. _

_ “There’s a syringe.” She says. She can see the tip of it; his jacket’s moved just enough that the glimmer of metal shows. “What’s in it?” She demands. She takes another big step back. _

_ “River, no one here wants to hurt you.” _

_River turns towards the door on the opposite side of their living room. There’s a man there. He isn’t a doctor. Clothes are all wrong. Big though. _

_ River glances around. Both doors occupied. Window? _

_“Well, where I am being shipped off to, since I’m such an embarrassment?” She asks her mother. _

_ “Oh, River, don’t be like this.” Her mother pleads. “It’s for the best. You’ll see.”_

_“Where?” River demands._

_ “Harmony House. It’s only for a few months, River. Please. Won’t you try for us? Your father and I are worried.”_

_ Months. That’s too long. She’s made plans. Simon can’t wait for months. No choice then. River sprints, jumps onto the coffee table, and vaults from it through the very lovely large glass window of their living room. _

_ She can hear her mother screaming, her father shouting. The doctor calmly giving orders. There will be people following her, soon. She runs. There’s broken glass, but her shoes are expensive, and none of it cuts through. _

_ Past the glass, and into the formal garden. Around. Footsteps behind her, running fast. She glances back. Men. Large. Uniformed. Must have come with the doctor. _

_ They won’t want to hurt her, not badly. That’s an advantage. She dodges behind a hedge. She and Simon used to play in the gardens. They’d penciled out how to defend against a siege in these gardens. _

_ River smiles. No prep time, so none of their sneaky little additions are possible. Still. Potential. She reaches the pond. It’s elevated, with a fountain, but designed to drain easily. She kicks the drain on the edge open, then, runs passed. That on its own isn’t enough, but she opens the valve hidden in the hedge behind the fountain, and that sends water gushing out. It will be muddy. _

_ Still, just a start. Last step. She grabs one of the speakers that mother always has out for garden parties. Still plugged in. Great. She tosses it into the fountain, and runs. Shouldn’t be fatal, she hopes. _

_ They’d been children, and she’d never bothered to check. Neither had Simon. Just a game against pretend enemies. She swallows. Doesn’t matter. Simon needs her, and that means that it wasn’t a choice. _

**She lets that last handful of strands fall into the trash and glances at the mirror.** Her reflection looks solemn. Her hair is ragged, snipped sporadically between shoulder and ear length. River smiles, grimly pleased. She no longer looks like the Tam's picture perfect daughter. Good. 

River hears the bathroom doorknob turn. She spins, scissors held at her side, as the door swings open. The woman who steps in must be thirty. Her hair is a muddy brown, thick, and curly. Her face is friendly, and, looking at River, concerned. It’s a kind face, River thinks, more laugh lines than frown.

“Oh, honey.” The woman says. “That’s terribly ragged. What’re your parents going to think?”

“I don’t have any.” River answers, and it feels like ice water dumped on her as she says the words, hears the truth in her own voice as it shakes.

“Oh, honey.” She pulls River into a hug that River can’t quite bring herself to resist. “Your choice, or theirs?” She asks, when she steps back, hands still on River’s shoulders.

“Yes.” River says. She almost regrets it. It’s a bad habit, answering questions like that, and her father hates it. She can’t quite regret it, in light of that.

The woman laughs, though, and River can see that she’s missing a few teeth. It’s still startling, even with as many months as she’s spent visiting what have to be some of the worst parts of the city. Dental care is ubiquitous on the core worlds. Or, she had thought it was. Simon would know. He was always noticing that kind of thing.

“Have you done the unforgivable then?” The woman asks.

“Not yet.” River admits. She feels a faint smile form, but, glancing in the mirror, it might be closer to a grimace.

“Have they?”

“I think so. They, obviously, disagree.”

A sigh. “Well, I won’t try to talk you into going home then, girl. But this isn’t safe. You have to know that.”

River grimaces, then shrugs. The woman isn’t wrong, but it’s not as if she has better options.

“Come with me. We’ll get you some proper clothes. Something that doesn’t actively scream “rob me”, and you can tell me what you have planned. You do have a plan, don’t you.”

“It’s a work in progress.” River admits. “Why help me?”

The woman laughs. “You can’t hear the accent I haven’t lost? Didn’t notice how straight the teeth are? I’ve been in your shoes, girl.”

“I shouldn’t trust you.”

“Then don’t. But you don’t have to trust me to take the help.”

“All right.” River says.

“Dina.” The woman says. “That’s my name. Or close enough to it.”

River thinks for a moment. “Rhia.” She lies.


	2. Spend (Borrowed Time)

“Well, you have any talents, girl? You’ll need some way to eat.” Dina sits sprawled on a wooden crate at the end of the alley as though is a throne. Her legs are spread in a fashion that would make River’s mother sniff and mutter, looking down her nose and remarking about such unladylike vulgarity.

River mimics the posture an adjacent crate. It’s harder than it looks. The crate is shabby and feels like it might break at any time. “I can dance?” River says, but she can’t quite stop the shudder that runs through her even as the words leave her lips. She can dance, but, this is not the world of ballet and theater performances.

Dina clucks her tongue, both eyebrows raised. She tosses River an apple.

River catches it easily. “Not like that!” River says. “And I’m very smart.”

Dina’s eyebrows are still raised. “I can see that.”

River rolls her eyes. She can’t quite help it. “I can learn most things.” She offers as an explanation.

“You have any strong moral objections I oughta know about?”

River takes a bite out of the bruised apple to give herself time to think. Does she? She’ll do anything for Simon, she thinks. The thought feels true, and she is almost scared of it. _Anything._

Dina shakes her head, the curls of her hair bouncing. “Silly question. Of course you do. Otherwise you wouldn’t have something to run away from.”

“I’d rather avoid murder.” River says, and takes another bite of her apple. She pushes a deeper analysis out of her mind. Focuses on the sound of the apple crunching.

“Most of us would. It’s messy. Draws attention. You don’t want that. Theft?”

River shrugs. Takes another bite of her apple. “Depends.” She says, after she swallows.

“Talk while you chew.” Dina instructs. “Not from them as needs it, then? Those that have t’spare?”

“S’re.” River says, around a mouthful of apple.

“Better.” Dina says. “Won’t stick out as much. Your proper manners will get you killed. Maybe. Your mama and papa pay a ransom?”

River laughs, then coughs. Her eyes water as she finally gets the chunk of apple out of her throat. She catches it in her hand. “No.” She says. “I’m an embarrassment.” She puts the piece of apple back in her mouth. She knows enough not to waste food, not when it has been given freely and when it so scarce.

“They have a replacement?”

“What?”

“Heir and spare? Right? That’s what the nob’s are about.”

River frowns.

“Well you are, aren’t cha?”

She shrugs. “Don’t matter, do it?”

Dina laughs, and her smile is wide and open. Her eyes are a startling blue, and brown curls bounce as she throws her head back. Her arm goes forward to compensate for the motion and she looks completely at ease.

River is certain that she’d fall off of her crate if she tried the same. She finishes her apple, crunching it noisily. Her habits are going to be hard to shake.

“What first?” River asks, when Dina is looking at her again.

“If you’re so _Jing Chai_, I might find some someone who can use you.”

River hums. “I am.” She says confidently. “Whether I am a naïve _Sah Gwa_ remains to be seen.”

The same laughter, head thrown back. It’s almost theatrical. Dina rocks forward and lands on her feet in a fluid motion. She grabs River’s arm, pulling her up. “Come on.”

River trots along beside her, let’s herself be towed along. Her new clothes, thrown at her hastily, are stiff and dirty. She thinks they probably came from a refuse bin, but she didn’t ask and doesn’t want to.

She fits in though. No one gives them a second glance as Dina leads her through down street. Through a crowded market, and River dodges a little pickpocket.

She’s not entirely without resources. Simon had put her on his accounts, and she can’t feel bad for the contacts she’s made, the purposes she’s put that money to. She’s going to get him out. All she has to do is be patient. Wait for things to come together. It’s enough. It has to be enough.

They go through an alley and up a fire escape into a shabby tenement building. Dina lets go of her arm in order to clamber through a window. A deep breath later, and River follows.

She is just in time to dive toward the ground, dodging something thrown. It shatters on the wall near the window, and she thinks it must have been something ceramic.

The room is as shabby as the building, and messy besides. Dina’s laughter is loud, even though the woman standing on the other side of this cluttered thing that passes for a kitchen has picked up a knife.

“I tell you gorram gutter trash not to startle me!” The woman is tall and broad, the thick muscles of her arms are very visible as she brandishes the knife. “And what you do?” She glances at River and sniffs pointedly. “What is that?”

River gets up from her crouch, watching the woman warily. It’s a big knife. Her clothes are colorful, and her stained apron looks like it once read ‘Kiss the Cook’.

“This is Rhia.” Dina says, still grinning madly.

A man’s voice calls from somewhere further inside. “What’s all the racket, Josie? You break another plate?”

“You not like that one!” The woman shouts back. “Ugly! With ducks!”

“That was my mother’s you _Buhn Dahn_!” Loud footsteps could be heard approaching.

“You not like her either!” She says, indignantly.

The man is tall, dark haired, and striking. He walks in, looking like he’s just finished a leisurely stroll, instead of the racing that his thunderous footsteps suggest. He smiles at Josie. It’s a warm, friendly smile, and jarring when compared to his previous tone. This is a man whose mood turns in an instant. Dangerous.

“No.” He says. “But I don’t like replacing dishes either.” Still smiling, still friendly.

She huffs. “Replace the window and I not throw plate.”

He laughs. “Throw the knife next time. It, at least, shouldn’t break.” He says, patting her on the shoulder, and stepping past her.

“Yosuke.” Dina says, stepping forward to greet him. Stepping between him and River, and that’s interesting. It says something, if she wants to take the time to analyze it.

He steps past her, looks at River. “You brought a pet.” He says. “I understand Shiori hasn’t finished cleaning your last stray from the walls yet.”

Dina turns to keep her eyes on him. Not the cook, with the knife; He’s the more dangerous, then.

River meets his gaze. Those dark eyes are hard and intense, and she wants to look away but doesn’t dare. This is not a man she wants to be weak in front of.

“Run away.” He says, and his voice is terribly soft. “Run away, little one, before I find a use for you.”

“If not you, someone.” River says, her voice miraculously steady. “I’ll not be a doxy, but…” She shrugs.

He chuckles. “Some spirit then. Good. You’ll need it.” He glances at Dina. “And who is this one for, then?”

“Nikolai?” Dina’s voice is hesitant. “Yosuke, this one’s-”

“Mine.” He says, his voice the same soft tone that makes shivers run down River’s spine. “Mine to distribute as I choose. You’ll see her settled, won’t you?”

“Of course.” Dina says. She is still strangely stiff, hesitant. She fears this man, and River is certain that it is with reason. 

River feels as though she is walking on ice, listening to the sighs and the cracks around her. Her heart is racing, and she stands frozen, while the man, Yosuke, walks back through the kitchen.

Josie, still in the kitchen, turns to raise eyebrows at Dina. “That’s what you gets. Coming in like a thief.”

“Darling.” Dina says, and she’s smiles and laughter again. “Darling, I am a thief.” She moves further into the kitchen, motioning for River to follow.

“Not a good one.” Josie answers, bluntly, smacking Dina’s hand as she moves to steal something off of a plate. “I hear you at the base of the stair. Not quiet.” She looks at River. “You have more sense?”

“I don’t know.” River says, honestly.

Josie laughs. “A start, that.” She nods. “Nicolai’s upstairs, if you wanted to make an introduction.” She tells Dina.

“Is there any point?” Dina asks, sounding tired, and a bit bitter. “He’ll do what he wants.” She shrugs.

“Might be Nicolai takes a shine.”

“And I take the rap if he does?”

“You don’t think she’s worth it?” Josie tilts her head to indicate River.

“Fine. I’ll see if he’s interested.” Dina glances at River, offers something that tries very hard to be a reassuring smile. “Stay.” She instructs.

The cook glances at River. “Good time to run.” She suggests.

River laughs, her voice soft, and with little humor. “I don’t have anywhere to go.” She admits.

“First days are the most dangerous. You get better.”

“Or die?”

“Or that.” The cook nods. “Chop these.” She slides a board and something that must be vegetation down the counter beside her. The knife seems to appear like magic in her hand. Smaller than the one she’d had earlier.

River hadn’t seen her put it away. She hasn’t any experience in kitchens. Her parents had a cook, a necessity, for keeping up with her mother’s dinner parties. She moves over as instructed anyway.

“You meet a lot like me, then?” She asks, frowning as she attempts to orient the knife to one of the round, purple objects. Perhaps it’s a fruit.

“Enough.” Josie says. “Dina collects strays.”

“Why?”

“Habit.” She shrugs. “And it’s useful. Someone should.”

“Most don’t make it.” River guesses.

“No.” She nods. “Most don’t.” She glances at River’s attempts, sighs, and reaches over to show her how to do better.

River lets her hands be guided. It will be a useful skill, she tells herself. Useful for blending in.

“Dina is shattered pieces. Some morning, she call you someone else’s name. Ask you questions you can’t answer. Too many dead memories. She pushes and pushes. Someday, she go too far.”

“With the man who was here before?”

“Yosuke. Yes. He’s patient. Not forever.” She shrugs. “Borrowed time.”

“Is my time borrowed?”

“All time is borrowed, girl. You borrow time from death. May as well spend it.”

River is not reassured. Information is information, though, and it is always valuable. “Is she really a thief?”

A snort. “She steals souls.”

River’s eyebrows shoot up. “There’s no such thing.” She says.

“Stole yours, didn’t she?”

“Of course not.”

The cook chuckles. “Wait and see.” She says, smiling. The words are almost sing-song and teasing. It doesn’t seem unfriendly, but River dislikes it anyway. 

A sudden thought. A shiver runs down River’s spine and she is unsettled without reason. “Who does she steal them for?” She asks, on impulse.

Josie laughs loudly. It is Dina’s laugh, head thrown back, arm forward to compensate for the motion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m using the appendix to the role-playing game for Chinese words. Anyone with other/better resources is welcome to suggest them. 
> 
> Jing Chai – Brilliant
> 
> Sah Gwa –Fool 
> 
> Buhn Dahn –Stupid Egg


	3. Chapter 3

“Rhia.” He says, as if he’s tasting the name. Nicolai is flamboyant; His clothes are all flashy colors and his hair is a bright, unnatural blue. “It doesn’t suit you at all.”

River sticks out her tongue.

He laughs. His smile is broad. White teeth. All present. He tilts his head up and to the side. “I hear you caught Yosuke’s attention.”

River shrugs. “Should that worry me?”

“Yes.” He says, returning his full attention to her. “Yes. It should.” His blue eyes are intent. “But you asked the wrong question.”

“Oh?”

“How much?” He says, and his are bright with laughter. “Come with me. I want to see what you can do.”

“Is that wise?”

“Of course not.” He smiles like someone that has a secret. “Come with me. We’ll see if we can’t teach you to ask the right questions.” He crooks his finger at her.

She follows down flights of stairs, the air getting cooler. This place is a maze of cement and she wonders what it was before it became part of the slums. Surely, no one designed the city to have slums. She thinks again that Simon would know.

When the reach their destination, River recognizes the room. It is very much like the salle she had learned to fence in. There are foils, and sabers, some of them even clearly for practice. Not all, though. And there are other things, things with sharp edges that she does not recognize.

“This is an armory.” She decides. That has implications. It implies organization, wealth and power. She won’t be sleeping on the streets, at least.

“Yes.” He agrees. “What have you used?”

She blinks. It’s common enough, she supposes, to learn fencing. At least, among certain social classes. “I started with a foil, then épée. Not saber. It wasn’t deemed feminine.” She might sound a bit bitter.

“Knives?”

“No.” She shakes her head.

“Pity.” He says. “You dance?”

“I do.” She answers, surprised. _When did Dina find the time to mention that?_

“Dina didn’t tell me.”

Her eyebrows raise swiftly in surprise. _What? How did he…?_

He grins. “Not reading your mind.” He says, blue eyes shining. “Just predicting your thoughts.”

“How did you know?”

“Your motion betrays you. Too much grace.”

She’ll have to learn, then, do better, if she wants to blend in.

“We’ll work on it.” He promises.

“Can you teach me to do that?” She asks. “I never could with strangers. Not like that.” She can read Simon, say his thoughts before they leave his mouth. She wonders if she’ll still be able to.

“I can.” He says. “But mostly it’s practice.” He smiles, crooks a finger to bring her closer. “A secret for you, little one.”

She listens.

“Everyone you meet is faking it.”

She lets the thought linger. “The same thing, or different things?” She asks.

“Almost no one here is from the Rim.” He says. “Almost no one.”

Again, she waits, thinks it through. Nicolai watches her, doesn’t press her for a fast response. She’s grateful for that. Sign of a good teacher, she thinks.

“Yet I hear the Rim in their words.” She says. “Josie’s speech pattern.”

“You do.” He agrees, nodding. “You’re a rarity, little one, coming into it so young. So where do the rest come from?”

She considers. “Off world, mostly. But core worlds.” She decides. “Josie’s a cook, and she might have been one professionally. If she was, she’d have worked for the university, or maybe for Blue Sun. They have to feed their employees.”

Nikolai waits.

“Blue Sun Corporation?” She asks him. “That’s the only source of off-worlders, other than the universities. Blue Sun always brings in educated people. Researchers, scientists, though they’d need support staff too.” It’s logical, but it doesn’t quite make sense. “But why would their employees end up here?”

“Better question.” He smiles. “But pray you don’t find the answer.”

She bites her lip. Not every mystery will lead to Simon. And she sees her brother in all the spaces he is not, in the absence and the worry that haunt her. It probably isn’t related.

He tosses her a foil, watches as she runs through a warm-up. Nods decisively, and has her return the blade.

“Come then, and let us see if you cannot learn a dance.”

“I can.” She promises.

It is a dance for two people, and he hands her sticks to hold. Place holders, for something, and something important, if the way he shifts her grip is any indication.

Another correction. Another soft sigh.

River huffs. “I’d be better if I knew what it was supposed to look like.” She grumbles.

“Soon.” He promises.

River scowls.

He shakes his head. “Go off, then, little one.”

She raises an eyebrow at him.

“Fine.” He says. “I’ll give you homework. Go play in the kitchen. Practice being clumsy.”

River raises both eyebrows.

“Good test, no?”

She shakes her head as she walks back towards the stairs. She could probably think of a more hazardous place to practice being clumsy. It shouldn’t be too long before the cook is fed up with her though, if Dina’s interactions with her are indicative.

And that thought carries her up flights of stairs. Had Dina been faking clumsiness, when the cook had called her a poor thief? Was she better at it then she had seemed? She’s looking, but not really seeing, as she walks, which is how she nearly collides with Yosuke as he walks down the steps. She flinches and takes a step back.

He seems calm as he looks at her, studying. “You’ll do.” He says decisively.

River resists the temptation to take another step back. She’d probably fall down the stairs if she did, anyway. She stands perfectly still, despite jittering nerves.

There’s a flash of metal, where the sleeve of his shirt is open over his forearm. Knives? _Where does anyone learn to use those?_

“Have Dina dress you, if you can find her. Shaori if you can’t.”

River nods slowly. She doesn’t trust her voice.

He pulls out a pocket watch, glancing at the time. “Be ready in two hours, or so.” It’s jarring, to watch him so comfortable with an old fashioned watch. It’s out of style, but it had been all the fashion when her father was young. 

She stands for a long time, listening to his footsteps as he makes his way down the stairs. Slow, calm, unhurried. _How worried should she be? _

She finds Dina in the kitchen.

“No food yet! Come back later!” The cook is insists, while Dina hovers nearby, munching on something. “Shoo!”

They both look up when River leans on the door frame. Impressive, since they’d looked distracted, and she hadn’t made much noise.

“You heard me. You too. Shoo!”

“I was looking for Dina.” A pause. “Yosuke wants me for something.”

It’s subtle, but both women stiffen slightly. The glance they exchange isn’t one River can read.

“He say when?” The cook asks.

“Two hours.” River shrugs.

“You eat first.” She looks to Dina. “Bring her back, half hour before.”

Dina shrugs. “Hard enough, given the mess she’s made of her hair.”

River raises a hand towards her head defensively. “Hey! I like it.” She doesn’t, really, but she likes what it means. It means she isn’t River Tam, child bound to her parents’ rules, incapable of helping anyone.

Both women laugh. “No worry,” Josie tells her, “Wait and see.”

River doesn’t have much choice, really. She can run away, of course, she can always run away. But there is a roof over her head, and she’s seen enough to know that these people have no wish to draw attention to themselves than she does. Even if they do, by some strange coincidence, connect her to River Tam, there’s no reason for them to say a word about it. Why should they care?

She suspects that will change. She doesn’t know how bad the mess Simon is in will be, but the dollar amount his freedom will cost, and the type of people she’s met, that’s the start of a picture. She will be a criminal, when she is finished, she is certain. The only thing in question is what the severity of the charges will be.

Tight pants and a leather jacket, dark lipstick that she puts on when Dina hands it to her. “Not a doxy.” She reminds Dina, not truly worried, but a bit suspicious.

“No.” Dina agrees. “Just decorative.”

“Why would he need decoration?” River asks. She doesn't ask how she could be decoration. She's been to enough of her mother's parties. 

Dina rolls her eyes. “Why does that _Ser Toh_ need anything?” She asks, clipping the wayward strands of River’s hair back so that they no longer fall in front of her eyes.

“Is that what he is?” River asks. “What this is?” She isn’t really surprised. She’s seen enough to suspect an organization, and a criminal one isn’t a stretch either. They don’t seem like criminals, though. Not like the people the school had taught her about. River’s learning not to trust everything she’s been taught.

Dina’s laughter echoes off the concrete walls around them. “What else would it be?” Dina asks.

“I don’t know.” River admits. “But I thought everyone would seem more dangerous if it were.”

More laughter. “Open your eyes.” Dina tells her.

River’s are open, but that doesn’t seem to matter.

“Open eyes. Closed mouth.” Dina instructs. But she is smiling.

_Sound advice_. River nods.

“He isn’t so big, really, but large enough on this world. We’re not his foot soldiers.”

River listens, patient. She is desperate for answers. Everything since she ran has felt urgent, like the ground slips beneath her feet constantly. She’s eager for things to steady. “No?” She prompts, when Dina doesn’t continue.

“His household.” She explains.

River makes a face. _This is a house?_

Dina responds with laughter. Head thrown back and curls bouncing. River wonders if she would be able to mimic the motion. She’ll try it sometime, now that she knows where this room of makeup and mirrors is.

“Unconventional.” River guesses.

“Yosuke is, yes.” Dina confirms. “Eccentric. But very good at what he does.”

River interprets that as dangerous. “So where I am I going, to be decorative?” She asks, though it isn’t the question she really wants to ask.

“A club of sorts.” She says. She combs something through the parts of River’s hair that aren’t pulled back, and it leaves bright streaks.

“Aren’t I going to stick out?” River demands.

“And will they remember the face?” Dina asks. “It will wash.” She promises. “Face next.” She says, turning River towards her.

River dutifully stays still while things are applied. She recognizes most of the tools used, her mother had ensured she was familiar with the beauty routine expected of a lady in polite company.

The image in the mirror that River sits before is strikingly different. Dina has done something that subtly shifts the lines and shadows of her face. River’s seen this look before, but not in her daily life. This is an underworld look, she thinks.

“You did something with my face? It’s different, somehow.”

Dina shrugs. “I teach you, but, Nikolai is better.”

“What is it?” River presses.

“Fools the cameras. Just a little.” She fusses a bit with River’s clothing, more than is necessary, but it’s the sort concern that seems friendly, almost familial. “You have to be careful.” She tells River. “Stay close to Yosuke. He’ll keep you safe.”

“You trust him?” River asks, surprised.

“He’ll have to. He can’t let someone he brings be hurt in front of him. Just, don’t do anything unforgivably stupid.”

“Such as…?” River asks, her stomach churning a bit. She can tell her palms are already getting sweaty.

“You be friendly. Make no promises. Give no insults. If you’re not sure, smile, look pretty and dumb.”

“Won’t that make a bad impression?”

Dina shakes her head, brown curls bouncing. “No.” She promises. “Yosuke’s smarter than that. And he’s the only one whose opinion you have to worry about.”

“I need to be useful, don’t I?” It’s not much of a guess, not really. Food, and shelter, and safety have a price.

“Don’t we all?” Dina asks with a smile. “You will be.”

River wonders what it is Dina does that is useful. What does a household need? Josie is obvious. Everyone needs to eat. But what does Nicolai do?

She doesn’t ask how Dina thinks she will be useful. Isn’t sure she wants the answer. _How thin is the ice on which she walks?_

They return to the kitchen, where Josie nods her approval at River’s appearance. She hands River a plate and a fork, and River leans against the counter.

She pushes her food around. Her stomach is churning. All nerves.

“Eat.” The cook commands.

River grimaces, but does as she’s told. The food is good, if unidentifiable, and it at least doesn’t make the churning in her stomach any worse. When she looks up, Dina has gone, either slipped past River and further into the building, or silently left via the window and the fire escape.

“Nerves?” The cook asks, sympathetically.

River nods. Not really trusting her voice. This is good practice, she tells herself, going dangerous places with dangerous people. She will go others, for Simon, and she will not be able to afford to be afraid then.

“Be someone else, a while.” The cook advises, taking her plate. “Dina, maybe.” She shrugs. “Nicolai, if you can manage.”

“Not you?” River asks, trying out Nicolai’s grin. She thinks it should look on her face, but her face doesn’t look quite right either, now, thanks to Dina’s arts. 

The cook smiles, face friendly. “Not me.” She says. “You need be bold.”

“You aren’t?” River questions. She remembers a shattered plate, the blonde woman shouting back at Yosuke.

Josie laughs. It’s the same laugh that Dina has, head thrown back, mouth open, teeth showing.

River watches. She can see no other resemblance between the two women. Dina is not so much taller than River, brown curls and brown eyes. Josie is tall, strong, and broad shouldered. Blonde hair. Her face is angular, where Dina’s is softer. Not blood relatives, then.

_Be someone else. _River holds the thought, lets it linger. Is it Dina that is someone else then? Or Josie herself? She remembers Nicolai’s comment, that she was asking the wrong questions. She thinks she still is. But if so, what are the right ones? 

* * *

_Ser Toh_\- “snakehead”, derogatory term referring to the leader of a criminal organization -doesn't specify how large the organization, but it can be applied to some very important people


	4. Learn (the Ropes)

She had fallen into step, a half step behind and to the left. A lady’s place in formal settings. He’d glanced over, eyes amused, lips curling up around the edges, a faint nod of approval.

He’s still smiling when he opens the door for her. So River keeps her face perfectly straight, does her best to hide the trepidation. It’s like being a kid again, walking into one of her mother’s parties.

“Thank you.” She says, her voice soft, because flawless manners are another one of mother’s gifts. Had they been children, or display pieces?

She steps forward, into the darkness. She pauses, blinking, waiting for her eyes to adjust. There’s a hand at her elbow, then, guiding her. She steps forward, lets that hand lead her into the darkness, the leather of his jacket brushing past her.

As her eyes adjust, she catches the brightness of a little window ahead. In a door, she decides, as she steps closer. He leans against it, a shadow among shadows, hand still hold her elbow.

“The Duke and Lady Fair, here to see the Prince.”

“You’re expected.” The door replies. “The Prince will see you.” The door swings open, and River blinks again at the sudden light.

“An affectation.” He says to her. “He so likes his drama.”

“An affectation.” She repeats.

“Of course.” The white of his teeth shows when he smiles. “To set people at ease. To distract.”

“Oh.” And he must use them too, for the same purpose. _Be someone else_. River tries for a smile, tries for Nicolai’s easy smile, and thinks that perhaps she managed a parody. She feels herself start to relax, because that’s Nicolai, outward appearance calm and casual. She can do that. Just like mother’s parties. Calm, and pretty, and a display piece. “Prince?” She asks, keeping her tone light.

“A Prince can improve his station. He is potential.”

“Ah.” River says, understanding. A prince can become king, but where has a king to go? She glances around. The room is lit in such a way that it almost makes the shadows more. Surprisingly quiet, low background music, and the quiet murmur of voices, the occasional clatter of a glass being set down.

It’s exactly what she would have pictured for a shady dive, save for the throne. And it is definitely a throne. It’s positioned to one side, before the low stage, angled for a view of both the stage and the rest of the room.

It is entirely out of place. Metal, perhaps, or something that looks a lot like it. Very intricate, from what she can tell at a distance. The man on it is, in fact, wearing a crown.

Giggling. And, it’s River. She can’t help the laughter bubbling from her lips. Heads are turning. The memory of Dina’s voice in her ear, telling her not to do anything unforgivingly stupid, is very strong.

Yosuke’s grip, just above her elbow, is tight. Bruises, for later. “Amused, my dear?” He asks, his voice still mild, and smooth.

“But it’s so delightful.” She grins. “Don’t you think the lighting suits my hair?” She reaches with her free arm and pulls a strand of neon forward so she can see it better.

“Any light would suit, I am sure.” He offers mildly, and his grip on her arm loosens. The tone is familiar, she’s heard her mother addressed in that tone.

She’s managed the character well enough, then. Pretty and vacuous. River almost snorts at the thought. Regan Tam is anything but vacuous, when she can be bothered to stop pretending. _Raise the stakes high enough, and I suppose I will fake it. _She giggles again, lets her amusement at the thought onto her face. Her mother would be horrified at the party she has chosen to audition this mask.

“But come.” The pressure is gentle, “We’re summoned.” His eyes are laughing, when he looks to her. She follows his gesture, to the man seated on the throne.

The man curls his fingers, a ‘come here’ gesture. They step closer and River gets a better view of both him and his seat. To say the thrown is in poor taste is an understatement. Someone has bastardized cables and wire, carburetors and gears into something intricately bound together. There are little coils of wire, as if the creator had been trying to mimic climbing vines.

It is either beautiful, or appallingly ugly, and she cannot quite decide which. It suits the man, somehow. His hair is cropped short and uneven, brown and wavy. His face is marred by twin scars that diagonal downwards from his left eye. His clothes are well made, and his face handsome. Scars among the wealthy are rare, and nearly always a matter of choice. She doubts there is much different here. The surgeries might even be easier to obtain through less than legal channels.

“A new one.” The man says, the words slow. “Pretty.” He smiles, and his teeth are all present and straight. “Well, Lass, how’d ye like my throne?”

“I’ve not seen its like.” River answers. She lets her mouth turn upwards into a smile. She wonders if there is any safe adjective to use.

“You a diplomat, girl? Pretty words with no meaning.”

“I’m good at pretty.” She says. She keeps the smile firmly in place, reaches up to pull a lock of her hair forward to examine it. She studies it a moment, and lets it fall.

The man laughs. “Your taste is slipping, Yosuke. The last one was sharper.”

“Too sharp.” Yosuke replies, with a smile. “Double-edged, in fact.”

There is a warning there, if she wants to acknowledge it. River pushes the thought away, holds on to the bubbling laughter that might, just might, be a bit hysterical.

Laughter, again. A careless hand dismissing them, and Yosuke’s hand is steady, guiding, and solid. She’s grateful for it, something to focus on, something consistent.

“One more obligation, before business.” He murmurs, his voice soft.

“Oh?” She asks, her voice equally soft.

“Someone you should meet.” He says.

That doesn’t feel like the complete truth, if not wholly a lie. River’s stomach clenches. She keeps the smile firmly in place, casual expression so as not to betray her racing heart.

He is looking for someone as they walk. He is greeted by people as they pass, but none seem interested in an extended conversation. They look at River, but briefly, and their eyes slide away. She is only an ornament, background.

There are body guards in this crowd, though they’ve made efforts to disguise themselves. The ornaments are like River, flashy. Less common than the bodyguards. Is it a statement, she wonders, to arrive with ornamentation instead? Makeup, of the striking, strange kind she wears marks nearly a third of people.

The woman Yosuke has been seeking is in an alcove, distant from the stage. Leaned back in a chair, the table she sits at visible to the room at large while she remains hidden. Her clothing is of good quality, but mismatched, and her hair is tangled. She is, perhaps, a decade older than River, and her eyes have an almost vacant look.

“Fair Lady Summer,” He greets her. He pulls a chair out across the table from the woman and moves River into it. She sits, and, with prompting from Yosuke, places her hands on the table before her.

“What have you brought me, Man behind Masks?”

“I was hoping you would tell me.” He says, his voice mild.

She takes River’s hand, her fingers like ice. River stills. That careful smiling façade has fallen, and she cannot quite bring it back.

“You’re Gretel.” The woman says. Her voice is soft, her face lighting up as with a sudden revelation. “Tempted by the candy house and you led your brother in.” The words come faster, and sounding more like an accusation. “Fattened him up, didn’t you? Served him up like a lamb?”

River jerks her hand back from where the woman clutches it. She glances back at Yosuke, and her eyes must be frantic.

His hands are firm on her shoulders, holding her in the chair. She wants to run away. Wants nothing quite so much.

“Watch.” Yosuke demands, his voice low. “Watch and listen.”

“But you’re Gretel,” She says, and her voice has slowed again, become softer. “You think your story can’t end like this. And it won’t, will it?”

“That’s an old earth tale.” River says, remembering. _Why is everyone so damned educated here? _Her classmates hadn’t been half so well read as the company she keeps now. “Their parents can’t feed them, so they leave them in the woods. They try to leave breadcrumbs to find their way home.”

The woman claps slowly. “Very good. But you would be. Wasn’t food, was it, girl? But you were tempted, all the same.”

River frowns. There’s a pattern here, and she can almost reach it. Her mind wants to shy away from the conclusions. Somehow, this is going to hurt.

Yosuke’s hands on her shoulder are hard, grounding, keeping her in the moment, keeping her thoughts from wandering too far. She is almost grateful. She would be more grateful to leave.

“Knowledge.” River whispers. Because what else has ever tempted her?

The woman claps again. “Oh, very good.” She’s smiling, the garish red of her lips contrasting starkly with the bright white of her teeth. “Very good, Gretel. And how does the story go next?”

“They go into the house, and the witch is going to eat Hansel. She makes Gretel feed him, make the fire. She’s going to cook him. But they fool the witch, and they kill her.”

“Good, good, but that isn’t your story.”

“But, you said-” _You said that it was. You called me Gretel. _

“Children can’t kill witches, girl. They’re too strong. All they can do is run.” A sad smile, and she reaches over, catches River’s hand and pats it gently. “Hansel’s gone, girl. Run.” She says. “Run. Lest they eat you, too.”

“Thank you for the conversation, lady.” Yosuke says, letting River stand. His hand is steadying when she falters, and she wonders if it is a kindness. “We need to find our seats.” The smile he offers River is amused. “Come along, Gretel.”

_That’s not my name. _She lets the thought linger, unspoken. “Who was she?” River asks, the question sudden and pressing.

The question lingers as he guides her forward, back towards the stage. “Someone broken by truths.” He says, finally. “But not willingly.”

River doesn’t understand. But she isn’t sure she wants to. Something in her mind shies away. There is too much here, in this time and space, and she feels that if she thinks about it, something terrible will happen. Perhaps she will cry. Perhaps she will scream and never stop. Both seem possible.

They sit at a table, River beside Yosuke, in the chair he has indicated. Three men and a woman are already seated. One of the men, and the woman, are bodyguards. There are no scars here, though one of the guards has a cane leaned beside him. The clothing is subdued, but well fitted.

“What happened to that pretty smile?” One of the men asks. Not the guard. The question is directed at Yosuke, even if is clearly about River.

“She met Lady Summer and has been shocked ever since.” The delivery is casual, as if he remarks upon something wholly unremarkable.

The man laughs, the sound a high almost shrill cackling. “First time?” He asks. The laughter turns into coughing, and the woman slides a glass of water to him without a word. Without even a glance.

“She will recover.” Yosuke answers. “But, tell me about that shipment. It was supposed to contain-”

River lets her attention drift. _Gretel. _There are so many mysteries in this new life. Too many pieces that do not fit together. Perfect teeth and scars. An old earth story mentioned casually as if anyone would know it. A woman broken by truth.

_ Am I Gretel? _She wonders. But there is a logical extension there. Gretel does not exist alone. _Gretel is unwanted. She doesn’t fit. _A start. But not all. _Gretel has a brother and neither are wanted. _That feels less true. Simon was wanted. Perfect student, doctor, a career their parents could be proud of.

_ Simon. Hansel. _A link there? The woman had known, somehow, that River had a brother. That is odd, unnatural, and eerie. Does she know who River is? Unlikely. And the mention of River, as a runaway, if there is one, will not mention her brother. A guess. Surely, just a guess. River remains unsettled.

There is a rising music, though, to distract her from her thoughts. A beat to it that is subtly familiar. Yosuke’s hand finds his way to her arm again. When she glances over, though, his eyes are on the stage.

Hers follow, and it takes several moments for her to guess the reason. There are two figures on the stage, clad in black, and holding swords. They bow, to the audience, and then to one another.

There is an explosion, a clash of metal, but only one. What follows is a blur of graceful motion and strips of dark cloth fall upon the stage, gradually, in blows and counter blows, near misses, all, for there seems to be no blood. Just a gradual shedding of an outer layer.

Beneath the black outer layer is color. Vibrant greens and golds on one, the other reveals purples and blues. River’s breathe catches, as the movement slows, the steps becoming recognizable. One of the men becoming recognizable. _Nicolai_.

She gasps, and Yosuke’s hand squeezes a warning. When she catches his gaze, he gives a slight shake of his head. She returns to watching. _How did they manage that? _There must be a trick to it, not to have cut the layer below. But it was subtle, and the effect dramatic.

River is here for decoration. And, she realizes, to meet the woman, Summer. Nicolai, though, must be here for another reason. She does not hold the thought long, though, because this is a dance.

She can feel the beat, a swirling thing. She keeps her hand still, but cannot stop her feet from tapping. It is more than that, though, there is a restless movement, a tension, and it is all she can do to keep from moving.

She can feel this dance, deep within her. Is it in her bones? The beat of her heart? She doesn’t know. But the compulsion is there. Strong. She wants this dance. Wants the beauty of it. The all-consuming focus that lets the world fall away. Her eyes do not stray from the stage.

Chairs rustle as they slide, people getting up. She cannot look away, even as they make their final bow. She watches Nikolai, watches as he approaches someone, all smiles.

Something there, about his purpose, she thinks. But it’s an absent thought. The dance still plays in her mind, even after the music has stopped.

It’s Yosuke, hands firm, that finally gets her to her feet. She looks up, startled, before she lets that absent smile mark her face.

“I want to see Summer again. Can I?”

A surprised glance, then a wave of his hand. “Go. But return swiftly. I will not be long in finishing my business here.”

She goes. Yosuke’s companions watch, with interest perhaps. There has been a conversation that she has missed in its entirety.

The woman is at the same table as before, her hands conducting an orchestra. “Can you hear it?” She asks.

“No.” River admits. She wonders if it is true. She can still feel that dance, and perhaps, she also feels the music.

The woman tilts her head. Grimaces. “A pity. I can hear music in the dripping pipes and the rumble of engines overhead.”

Not the same music, then, that River can feel. She lets intuition guide her words. “Your name is Hansel.” River says. It’s a guess, but it feels a good one. It has a feel of a truth.

The woman claps. Smiling. “Perhaps.” She answers. “Perhaps not. Perhaps I am Humpty Dumpty.”

“You speak in riddles.”

“Human kind cannot bear very much reality.”

“A poem. From old earth.” River recognizes. _How well educated is this woman? And how? _A mystery here. Far too many of those. What has she walked into?

“Best hurry, little one. I hear the tinkling of breaking glass.”

River glances away. Yosuke does look almost done, and she is sufficiently wary of him that she will not keep him waiting.

She hurries.

He greets her with a smile. It is anything but warm. He offers his arm, and it feels a parody of the traditional courtesy.

She takes it anyway, lets him lead her towards the exit.

“And what did you learn, little one?” He asks.

“Riddles.” She answers, shaking her head.

“But you found a truth.”

She blinks. Shrugs. “If so, not one I understand.” She admits.

He laughs, and the sound is almost warm. _Masks._ _And which is the reality? The warmth? Or the cold? _

“Such honesty is dangerous.” He warns her, but there is a smile in his voice, amusement still present. “Best be careful.”

“And did you find truth there?” She asks.

“You already know the answer.” He says, his voice soft.

River is silent for the journey home. Home, when approached through this entrance, is a business. One that serves food. It’s definitely the same building, she’s quite certain, but approached through a different direction.

“Sit.” He tells her. She picks a table where she can put her back to the wall, watching the door they came through, watching the kitchen entrance, as Yosuke moves to it.

She is left alone with her thoughts for several minutes. When he returns it is with a tray. A teapot and cups. He sets them down at the table, smiling faintly.

He pours before sitting across from her. “Drink.” He says.

She does. She is wary of this man, but the tea seems safe enough. He doesn’t seem like the type to poison anyone. And what has her life come to, that she considers such things?

The tea is hot, but good. As good as any her mother served, and that, too, is interesting. There is some conclusion, she could draw, from a willingness to spend money on quality teas. She doesn’t know what it is, and doesn’t dare take her attention away to consider it.

“Now,” He says, as she draws the cup away from her lips. “Tell me about your brother.”

The cup drops from her hands. Shatters. Is it luck, that it is above the table and not her lap, when she does so? Or did he wait?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The poem referenced is by T.S. Elliot, it's title is Burnt Norton.


	5. Keep (Your Chin Up)

They sit, tea cooling on the table between them. “My dear, my time is limited. Yours is limited to my patience.” His eyes go to the clock above the door to the kitchen. He is smiling.

The cold, she decides. The cold persona is very, very real. Her heart is racing and she feels sick.

Is this a betrayal, she wonders? “He’s at school.” River says, biting her lip.

He raises his eyebrows, and takes a slow sip of his tea.

The silence lingers. “His letters didn’t make sense.” She grimaces. “I was worried. My parents wouldn’t believe me. So, I ran away.” She glances at him, and then down, at the table. She can look shy. Scared. She is scared, after all.

He sets his cup down. It is half empty. He glances again at the clock.

River’s heart is racing.

“Do you think,” He asks softly, “That you will walk away, if you do not answer my questions?”

River fights fury and fear. No fight or flight possible, and the stress of inaction makes it hard to breath.

He must read something in her eyes, for his smile widens. “Or perhaps,” He offers, “You think the worst fate that can happen is death.”

She flinches.

“You will tell me _everything_, River Tam. You will tell me because while you are afraid that your brother is in danger, I know that he is. And I know, too, that the ones are hurting him would be very eager to have you in their custody as well.”

Her hands are shaking. “If you know that much, then why do you need anything from me?” She demands.

“If you’re very, very thorough, my dear, I may answer that.” He looks to the clock again. “But you would buy me trust, and useful favors. And your parents are not here to provide you with any kind of safety. I suggest you talk quickly.”

“And they’ll take me to Simon?” She asks. “These people you’d give me to?”

“They would _break _you.” He says. “And you would be of no value to your dear brother, then.” He is still smiling. “Talk.” He commands.

River does. River talks until his tea is empty, and the shaking in her hands has finally stopped, and she wants nothing quite so much as to cry.

He’s almost kind when he walks her to her room. Almost gentle, that steadying hand on her shoulder. The only true kindness, is the closed door that he leaves behind him.

The room is bare, cold cement forming the floor and the walls. River tries not to think about the source of the stains she saw on the floor before he closed the door and left her in darkness. Maybe it is a cell and not a room, but he did not lock the door, and she is desperately glad for the door. For this room and the fact that she is the only one in it.

She goes to the corner, as far away from the door as she can manage. She curls into a ball, her back against the solid concrete, holding her breath to keep the sobs silent, and her shoulders shake with her weeping. There are occasional footsteps in the hall, and she stills whenever they approach.

She is terrified, and she does not know what she will do if someone comes in. She does not know how she can possibly sleep. Fatigue blurs her version.

The conversation, when it happens, does so outside her door. It is, she realizes, no accident.

“She’s too young. She will fail.” Yosuke says. The comment is casual, but even the sound of his voice sets River to trembling again.

“The others did. Before they even began.” Nikolai agrees. “But she’s young. Trainable.” Nikolai. And that hurts because he had been friendly. But of course he is complicit. _Everyone here is, aren’t they?_

“She cannot fail. Cannot be allowed to. She’ll lead back to us.”

“I know.”

“You like the girl.” Observation. Cool. Collected.

“I do.” He admits.

“She cannot be allowed to fail. If she will not succeed…” The voices fade, with the distance, and she can no longer make out the words.

She is still shaking when footsteps return. This time, they stop at her door. She is in the corner, curled up and watchful. She can see the shadows where someone stands outside her door.

River trembles as the door opens.

It’s Nikolai, and when he spies her, he grimaces, but his eyes look kind. “You look awful.” He tells her and his voice is gentle.

She laughs, or she tries to. It comes out as something closer to a sob. He steps inside and the room returns to darkness behind him.

His footsteps are quiet, but audible as he approaches, and she can see where he must be from the way he blocks the light that streams in from under the door.

“I never sleep well, nights like these.” He offers, voice low, as he sits down next to her, leaning against the cold concrete wall. “And I thought you might have the same trouble.”

She laughs and it comes out quiet and breathy.

“He pushed you hard.”

River nods. Then realizes he probably can’t see it. “Mm.” She hums an agreement. Pleased that the sound is under control, what she intended and not a sob. 

Nikolai is warm next to her. “Not kind.” He says, the words very quiet. He must not want to be overheard. Perhaps he doesn’t anyone to know that he is here. The thought is unsettling. But everything is unsettling and River is mostly numb to it.

“Scared.” She whispers.

“Good. That’s smart.” He answers. “He’s your greatest immediate threat. But he’s also an asset. A strong one.”

“Why?”

“Because he wants you to succeed.” Nicolai smells of smoke and alcohol.

“Why?” She asks again.

A long silence, and she thinks that he won’t answer. “Why do I?” He asks. “Why do we scatter pieces of truth like bread crumbs and never tell them outright?”

“I don’t understand.”

“You will.” He sounds certain. “Gods forgive me, but you will.”

She tries not to cry. When her shoulders shake again with sobs, and she holds her breath to hold her silence, his hand rubs circles on her back. It is painfully like Simon, comforting her after nightmares. In the darkness, she can almost imagine that they are home, that it is Simon whose fingers trace soothing patterns.

“Go to sleep, little one.” He says, his voice quiet. “I’ll keep watch.” She falls asleep and startles away again, several times, her head leaned on his shoulder.

It’s still dark when he wakes her, but it’s a windowless room, so the darkness is to be expected. The sudden light, when he turns it on, is painful.

“You’ll need to get cleaned up. I’ll send Dina down.” He tells her, as he stands.

She blinks. “I thought you didn’t want to be caught here?” She asks, as he reaches the door.

He laughs. “I didn’t want Yosuke to catch me here.” He corrects with a grin. “Everyone else will jump to all the wrong conclusions. He might jump to the right ones.”

She can actually hear him whistling, briefly, as he leaves. She stretches, unbelievably stiff. Her eyes are dry, and she rubs the sleep from them. The stretches ease the pain of movement some, but don’t help with the ache from sleeping in an odd position, and the hard concrete of the floor.

She mentally adds locating a mattress of some kind to her to-do list, and a burst of hysterical laughter echoes around her, when she realizes what she has done. _Stay alive. Rescue Simon. Anything else is bonus. _

She flinches when the door opens to Dina. The woman fusses, and River is shown a bathroom, makeup gently wiped off, and pushed into a shower. She lets the hot water nearly scald her skin. There are no tears left to cry, and she is tired of crying.

The fear is… _irrational. _No. Not quite that. Some fear of Yosuke is quite sane. She probably should be terrified by what he suggested. That isn’t it though, not wholly. Mostly, she is terrified of failing Simon. She has to reach him, has to get him out, and that means she has to live, has to stay free. No. The fear is not wholly irrational. But isn’t helpful.

And, River is tired of being afraid. She pushes the fear aside. Focuses on her brother. On Simon’s last, desperate message, so carefully coded.

_Run. _He had told her to run. _It isn’t safe. Run. Don’t look back. Run. _Well, she would run, eventually, when she could pull her stubborn over-protective big brother along with her.

“I will save you, Simon.” She whispers to herself, as the water washes shampoo from her shortened hair. “I will.”

She steps out of the shower, finds a towel waiting, and what is hopefully a more reasonable set of close. She dries, pleased to find her hair is at least more easily managed at this length. The clothes are plain, but they allow for plenty of freedom of movement, and that’s a security.

She finds Dina in the kitchen, pilfering cooking utensils and accumulating them in a back pocket. “You went looking for me.” She says. “When you found me. In the bathroom. Were you the only one looking?”

“Mere good fortune.” She returns, smiling.

“Liar.” River remarks. It isn’t an accusation, simply a statement of fact, and she keeps it calm. There is little use in anger, as there is little use in fear. She feels like steel, untouchable, and unyielding. She is not afraid. She will not be afraid.

“Don’t be talkin nonsense, girl.”

“I don’t believe I was.” River returns, with a shrug. “Does Josie know you’ve been helpin yourself to her accoutrements? Seems she might be a bit techy about that.”

“How precocious! Already to blackmail and threats. Yosuke must be so pleased, a shiny new _Wu Ming Shao Jwu_.”

“I am precocious. What do you think I will know by week’s end?” River asks, her voice mild. She manages a combination of vague curiosity and indifference. And she proud of the control.

“How not to pick fights you can’t win, little one.” Josie appears in the door, drawling the words. She is a large woman, but she is watching Dina, hand outstretched, expression impatient. “Give them over.” She demands.

Dina does a flip backwards, which seems to be an inefficient waste of time, an darts for the window. Josie rushes after, catching her shirt, and reacquiring her utensils. Dina flees down the fire escape when released.

“I wasn’t picking a fight.” River says.

Josie laughs. That full laugh with her head thrown back. “An' what exactly would you call that, then?”

“Negotiating.” River answers, with a grin.

“Learn it from someone else.” The cook tells her, voice gruff. “Nikolai, for example. He’s popular.”

River raises her eyebrows. “Popular?” She asks, still smiling as if amused, sounding doubtful. She is doubtful, actually, because he’s not wholly trusted by Yosuke, from what she can tell.

She shrugs. “Talks ‘imself out a’trouble, mostly.”

“Could be useful.” River admits, and lets herself smile more broadly. “How do you negotiate?” She asks.

“Me?” The cook passes her the pile of utensils. “Wash these.” She instructs.

River begins to wash. The motion is peaceful, and peace seems a thing to hold onto, to savor.

“I don’t. That’s for better ‘an me. Important folks. Which, I ain’t.”

“Liar.” River says, softly. She watching, though, so she ducks the thrown plate, which shatters against the counter.

“See what you make me do!”

“And you said you didn’t negotiate.” River answers. She holds the smile. She will hold it. It is that smile of faint amusement, a lady’s smile that is polite and reveals nothing. Her mother would be, well, perhaps, not proud.

A dustpan and broom are shoved into River’s hands. The woman looks entirely grumpy. River takes them without complaint, and cleans up the pieces she can find. The food, at least, is starting to smell good.

“Trash is behind the restaurant. Down the stairs. No be seen by customers.”

“You don’t cook for the restaurant, too?”

“Course I do, girl. Start things anybody can finish, if they’ve two thoughts to rub together.” She glares.

“Not important?” River asks. But she takes the trash, and slides through the window, and down the fire escape before the woman has the chance to think about launching another plate. The cook is important. Important, because who does Yosuke trust with his food? He isn’t the kind of man who has friends, and she doesn’t think he has the personality to inspire loyalty. She is, of course, biased.

She is starting to think that _everyone _lies, and it’s a bit daunting. She’s used to white lies, and the lies that adults tell because they think that she is too young to understand. But, it’s hard to find her feet here.

But there will be a truth, underlying the lies, and maybe it’s more important. When her parents lied, the truth was that they thought she wouldn’t understand. When Simon lied, the truth was that he was embarrassed.

River is going to find it. Just like she is going to find her brother. She will not fail. Yosuke is right in that much at least. River cannot fail. And so, she will not allow herself to fail.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wu Ming Shao Jwu- literally “nameless little foot soldier.” –peon (still getting these from the appendix to the role playing game)
> 
> Also- "See what you made me do" is a terrible thing to tell anyone. In this context, it's absolutely verbally abusive; It's an attempt to push River into taking responsibility for someone else's angry outburst, to try to keep River from asking certain questions.


	6. Dance (with the Devil)

“I am Cinderella.” She says, when she sees the woman Yosuke calls Summer again. This is the third outing he has taken her on since that memorable first, and the trembling nervousness is buried if not absent.

The woman nods, agreeable. “Sifting through ashes.” She says, smiling.

River smiles back, pleased to be understood. River is seeking truth that is scattered among so many ashes. “Are fairytales the language I must learn to speak?”

A long silence, thoughtful. A shrug. “It is my language.” She says. “Stories are a universal, aren’t they?”

“You lost the rest.”

“The princess was silent for seven years to save her brothers. Do you think you could?”

River laughs. “Were it that simple.” She offers. “I would that it were.”

“Careful now, girl of cinders.” She is still smiling, but she is watching someone approach behind River. “Careful. Stories change, and you might yet be Snow White.”

“I’ll keep it in mind.” She says, already turning. It’s Yosuke, and she pushes all thoughts of fairy tale stories aside. She isn’t about to speak with him without her full attention engaged.

“Say goodbye, little one.” He says, his voice low, as he steps inside her personal space. His breath is warm on her ear.

She doesn’t flinch, doesn’t step away, but the impulse is there.

“You’re visits are becoming conspicuous.” He murmurs.

“Of course.” She replies, her voice equally low. She turns her head back to the woman. “I am glad to have met you.” She says, and means it.

“Safe journey, little dreamer.” The woman raises her glass, as if in a toast.

Yosuke’s hand on her arm draws her attention back. “You finished your homework before you wandered, I presume?”

She did. No one had bothered to warn her about the possible consequences of disappointing the man, but she didn’t fault them for that. She could, after all, draw her own conclusions. “There are as many guards as usual, but not the usual faces. Some new faces this time, and the new ones from the last, and the time before. And they know each other. Also, the Prince hasn’t drunk from glass all evening, but I think we were supposed to notice.” Her voice is kept low, her words to quiet to carry.

“Good.” He says, voice flat, and his eyes not on her. “And the exits?”

“Guarded, but subtly. The ones I saw are with the new people.” _Why am I here? You knew this was coming or you wouldn’t have given me the assignment. Why are we here? _She thinks the questions, wants to demand answers, and knows better than to do so. “Also, Nikolai-”

She stops, his hand tightening on her arm, and his head shaking ever so slightly. She waits.

“Not your concern.” He tells her.

Nikolai had been there, with his lazy smile, among those by the exit. Friendly, and flirtatious, and he’d left with one for something that was theoretically a cigarette break, but appeared to have subtext.

He trusts Nikolai, she realizes, and the thought is jarring. She trusts Nikolai as well, and it feels as if one of them has to be wrong. But that, too, is a thought for another time.

“Come. Time to sit and watch a performance.” It will be a play, probably, since this is a parody of a theater. Perhaps it actually is a theater, River’s never been in one this shabby.

“Which one?” She asks, her voice soft.

He laughs, and it’s louder, a public sound. “Both, of course.” He tells her, and his smile is wicked.

“Objectives?” She asks, softly. Because she needs to know. Because the second act of the day is audience participation of one kind or another.

“Stay alive.” He suggests, voice low and amused.

She raises her eyebrows. “And for you?”

“Why should mine be different?” He counters.

“Because you do nothing without purpose.” She answers.

He laughs again, and she thinks that the observation pleases him. “It would be inconvenient for our new friends to accomplish their objective.” He says lightly, and his lips barely move as he speaks.

Is he worried about lip reading? River pushes the thought aside, another thing to visit later, because it would be useful to learn.

The performance doesn’t feature Nikolai, or at least, doesn’t immediately, so River considers. The Prince is the probable target, kidnapping or assassination or the like, she expects. It won’t be firearms that they will be armed with. Silencers don’t actually make things silent, no matter the name, and the algorithms for detecting gunshots are well developed enough to catch them, these days.

Of course, laser weapons would get around that, but those are tightly controlled enough that even if someone could get ahold of one, they’d be unlikely to risk leaving the tell-tale evidence of laser burns in a place like this. Sonic weapons are equally well controlled, and probably just as trackable as the chemical cartridges in old fashioned firearms though if that’s the case, it isn’t public knowledge.

So, whatever it is, it’ll be in close and personal, or it’ll be a crowd control device. Gas, of some kind, but it’s unlikely, given that whoever is behind this has been seeding the crowd with their people. Up close and personal could mean tasers, or stunners, but is more likely to mean blades.

River lets herself giggle, it’s consistent with the persona of an airhead, so it’s fine. She wonders, bemusedly, if she’s about to have her first bar fight. The thought of just what her parents would say keeps her stifling laughter.

Yosuke, when their eyes meet, almost looks fond, and it’s unsettling enough that some of the humor dies. That’s all right, though, because the stage is changing. Perhaps they are simply switching scenes in the drama that they are performing, rather badly now that she is paying attention.

The rustle of movement around them, Yosuke’s hand on her arm stilling her startle response, tells her that the second act has begun in truth. She lets herself smile. Yosuke has taught her that a smile in a time that is not appropriate unsettles people, and that unsettled people make mistakes.

It’s a mask, of course, and it’s one that he mirrors. His smile is wide, though, and his eyes are gleaming. She hopes that it’s a mask he wears.

Around them, men and women who’d been causally standing near their masters have taken blades out. The stage is commanded by a woman, dressed in black, almost like a stage director.

River wonders if a sense of drama is a prerequisite to success in this strange world that she has entered.

“I apologize for the untimely intermission. This won’t take long, and I’ll ask that you stay in your seats for the duration.” She bows formally.

Glancing around, there are only a few fearful faces. Most are stoic, and there are a few good attempts at bored indifference. No one looks quite as manically delighted as Yosuke. The Prince is the only one who truly looks indifferent.

“Well, do try to hurry.” He says to her, gesturing broadly with his glass. The glass he hasn’t taken a drink out of all evening. It isn’t River’s imagination, the room really does hold its breath when he brings the glass to his lips.

Yosuke’s grip on her arm tightens just slightly. River’s muscles tense. Her heart is racing. The play was supposed to be about a stabbing, she remembers, recognizing it. They’ve got even this much wrong.

Again, the laughter rises, and she fights to stifle it. Yosuke must catch it, the shaking as she holds her breathe because this is not the time to burst out laughing.

“Share the joke, my dear?” His voice is quiet, but as still as the room is, it fills the void, and everyone is staring.

“It really is a terrible play.” She tells him, “I mean, they can’t even get the murder method right.”

He chuckles, and that’s enough for River to start giggling again. It’s high, and not quite right, and she covers her mouth in a very ineffective attempt to stop. There’s an undertone of exasperation, because this cannot be her reaction to stress.

The woman on the stage, at least, doesn’t seem to find it funny. “I’m certain we can arrange a stabbing if you’d prefer. I’d so hate to disappoint a guest.”

“Now, now,” Yosuke says, waiving a casual hand, “You have to take criticism better. It is a hazard of performing to an audience, after all. And none of us signed the waivers for audience participation.”

“Didn’t you?” She asks, voice dangerous. “Didn’t you sign, Yosuke Martel? Or perhaps you think you’re part of the cast?”

She glances past him, to the Prince, and he is still calm, still looking bored. She frowns. Whatever she thought was in his drink must be fast acting, because she doesn’t look happy.

Yosuke is still smiling, and it’s not the cold smile he had favored River with, that night he’d pushed her for answers. This is almost manic, and even River, laughter still barely stifled, finds it disconcerting.

“I had a better offer.” He tells the woman, and the room explodes in violence with her temper. The woman actually dives off the stage, towards him, and River didn’t think real people did things like that.

She has a blade, though, it’s coming out as she moves, and River is on her feet. Around them, the rustle of movement, chairs pushed back as people stand. Yosuke’s hand has gone to a knife, pulled from a boot, arm raising defensively as the woman lunges towards him.

River steps back. Another step, and she’s against the stage. They had sat towards the center, right in front, and that seems incredibly foolish then. Except, she can see the room from here.

Not that seeing it helps much. Everyone is moving. She jumps, maybe she screams, if she does, she can’t hear it over the cacophony of chaos, as a man lights down beside her. Nikolai, and her heart is still racing.

He puts a blade in her hand, and it’s familiar. He’s been teaching her this one. “Dance with me.” He says to her.

It’s easier, to follow that direction. To follow his lead, and think only of the dance, of the way these movements are a dance. No need to watch the room and dissect the politics, or figure out what is happening. Opponents come to them, where they stand together, as they move their way away from the stage.

Yosuke is somewhere, but she hasn’t the time to search for him. It seems as if any opponent is simply replaced, instantly, by another. These are killing blows she dodges, and she’s going to be sick if she thinks about it.

She’s going to be sick if she thinks about the body on the ground, bleeding, that Nikolai stepped over. But she doesn’t hesitate, because Nikolai is exactly the way her previous teacher was. To hesitate is to die, and even if River had never been expected to take the dueling stage, she’d been trained by a man who trained duelists.

When the fight ends, it is sudden. As if a change happened when she blinked. Nikolai is still beside her, and there are tears in his clothing that weren’t there before. There will be tears in hers, too, she thinks.

Yosuke is talking to the Prince, and it’s settled enough that their conversation is easily heard.

“You settled this well.” The Prince says. “It’s been…informative.”

Yosuke laughs, and yes, the smile is still manic. “Was I right?” He asks, and he’s practically bouncing on his heels, eager.

The Prince shrugs. “I was right about Del Araya. You thought he was clean.”

“Ah, well.” Yosuke says. “Not quite perfect then.”

“Not quite. But enough.” The Prince tells him. “I’ll be in touch. See to your people. They’re bleeding on the floor.”

River looks, first at Nikolai, and then at herself. The man is right. They are bleeding. She looks away. Blood is fine, when it belongs to other people, but in herself, it’s unsettling.

“You did something to the guards on the door?” She guesses.

“I made ‘em a better offer.”

“What would you have done if they didn’t take it?”

“I wouldn’t have given ‘em the antidote.” It’s a casual comment, and it takes River a moment to understand.

River doesn’t drop what she’s holding, because she’s still holding a blade, and she’s been trained better than that. “Oh.” She says, simply.

Yosuke nods to both of them, and then gestures that they follow. So they do. He isn’t walking slowly.

“This made a lot of noise.” River guesses.

“Less ’an you’d think.” Nikolai tells her, cheerfully. “We have time. And someone else’ll take care of cleanup. There’s some wonderful powders you can add to blood that make it near impossible to trace back to someone.”

That’ll be a core world aspect to crime. The Rim doesn’t have access to the sort of information on people the core worlds do. It’s amusing, to realize, that the tools and concerns of crime differ just as much as they differ among law abiding citizens. Crime is supposed to be easier on the Rim, and she wonders if it will be.

She’s going to be on the Rim, with Simon. She’ll have to. The Rim is where you go, to hide, when you have to hide from important people. And she’ll be a criminal, no getting past that. River is smiling again, because she is going to be as good at crime as she is at everything else. She is going to have to be.

The thought carries her through most of the ride, through allies and twisting turns, and things they must be doing to avoid being followed. Yosuke drives, and he is still grinning. Nikolai is cheerful, and his fingers don’t stop tapping on his thigh.

He catches her looking. “Adrenaline.” He says. “You’ll be as bad as the rest o’ us, quick enough.”

“I guess I will.”

When they get out, vehicle parked carefully out of sight, there’s a walk down open stairs to a basement door. A knock, and a peephole, and a rapid, irritated discussion before the door is opened.

Everything about this place is shabby. The lights are dim, and the man who greets them is scowling, beard and hair both long and greasy, and matted with something that smells foul. “You again.”

“It’s customer service that returns me.”

“Liar.” The man growls. “Well, don’t just stand ‘ere.”

They troop inside, and the man closes the door. It’s a heavy door, and the amount of deadbolts he locks behind them is staggering. She follows Nikolai and Yosuke further inside, and it’s definitely supposed to be a medical facility.

Shabby, though, and there are blood stains on the floor. With a gesture from Yosuke, Nikolai hops up on the examining table. River finds a cleanish section of wall to lean on, and props herself there.

She’s trying for bored, and not quite achieving it. She’s still bleeding. The doctor, if that’s what the man is, mutters as he starts pulling things out of drawers.

Nikolai, looking resigned, pulls his shirt over his head. The sleeves are tattered, and River has a better appreciation for the value in large, dramatic sleeves, when she sees that the damage beneath is much less than it looked. He actually folds the shirt.

“Is that really going to come clean?” River asks.

Yosuke laughs, and, she really wasn’t that funny, but he’s almost bent over, and he’s laughing so much that it’s actually gone quiet.

She raises her eyebrows, and looks to Nikolai in hopes of an explanation. He shrugs, then, winces at the motion. “Adrenaline.” He says.

She keeps her eyebrows raised.

“Don’t be givin’ me that, girl. You’re as bad. Difference is, he waits till the fightin’s over.” Nikolai tells her, smoothing out some of the wrinkles in his folded shirt.

River laughs.

The doctor, grumbling, starts adding an antiseptic to Nikolai, that makes him hiss. “All as Shiang Jing Ping as the next.” Another wound, another hiss from Nikolai. “Went South again, didn’t it?

“Oh, no, doc. These are happy sounds. It went well.” Nikolai assures him.

River giggles. There’s a line, back when Simon that action and adventure were the best types of entertainment. “Should’a seen the other fella.” She says, still giggling.

It sends Yosuke into another fit of laughter. His clothing is torn, too, and there are definitely stains, but if he’s actively bleeding, she can’t tell.

She’s still giggling when Nikolai is bandaged, and it’s her turn to sit on the table. She takes her shirt off, when the doctor gestures for her to do so. She tries to be confident. Bold. And, oh, that’s blood, and it’s hers. She shudders. The doctor is good though, or, at least competent, with the dermal mender. No scars for them today.

The others don’t make a point of looking away, but both look bored, and that is good enough. Yosuke stops laughing long enough to play with a device she’s almost sure is a modified communication radio.

Given the surveillance of the core worlds, she’d love to know how this one works. It must have a trick of some kind, if he’s willing to use it, and that’s enough to make it interesting.

She studies the ceiling, the stains on it are impressive, and far more puzzling than the ones on the floor. She ignores the sound of the dermal mender, doesn’t want to think about the fact that there are places where her skin needs mended.

Eventually, she’s free to hop down, slide her shirt back on, and return to leaning against the wall. “How hard are those to use, anyway?” She asks the doctor.

“Oh, easy. Trouble is, it’s a patch. Don’t fix the problem, just makes it harder to see. You want to patch yourself up with one, skip this old man. Go ahead. Go die of infection.”

Simon’s the doctor, the medic. But she’s picked up some stuff, he talks a lot. She could learn. River could learn anything. She doesn’t want to. Doesn’t want people depending on her to save them. Never wanted that.

There’s a scar on Yosuke’s side, and that’s interesting, because even criminals have access to things to prevent that. She glances to Nikolai, question unspoken.

“It’s like tattoos. Same reasoning. Same stupid reasoning.”

Yosuke laughs again, not quite as profusely. “I’m better at staying dressed.” He tells Nikolai, and River isn’t sure what to make of that, or of Nikolai’s grin and slowly shaking head.

They take a different vehicle home, parked in the same place as they’d left the last one. River doesn’t ask. She’s…tired. A bone deep fatigue is starting to settle into her bones. It seems impossible, the way the evening has gone, that she should be yawning.

Still, she’s stumbling when they finally make it home. When she sees the clock, she bursts into laughter again. Yosuke ruffles her hair as he steps past her.

“How is it so early?” She asks, to no one in particular.

“Get some sleep.” Nikolai tells her, and he, too, sounds weary. A pause, as he’s walking away, thoughtful. “You did find a mattress, didn’t you?”

She shakes her head.

He sighs. “Come on, then.” She follows him. Up more stairs than she’d expected, but still the same plain walls that seem just a little too tight. He opens a plain door, and beckons her follow. It’s a bedroom, and, while a bit plain, clearly lived in. He closes the door, and then braces it shut with a chair. There’s a picture of a girl on dresser, with short, disarrayed hair, and Nikolai’s wicked grin. She’s a bit younger than River.

“Hit the light.” He says, sitting on the mattress and taking off his shoes. “And take your shoes off. We’ll get you your own tomorrow.” He yawns.

She does as instructed, too tired to really protest. She needs a shower. He probably does too. And her clothes have blood stains, and she should probably do something about that. But she’s tired.

Nicolai is already snoring slightly when she stretches out atop the blankets. She shakes her head, impressed. She’s tired, but she can’t imagine falling asleep that fast. “Thank you.” She whispers to the darkness. “Thank you.”

“Shut up, Mei.” Comes a sleepy grumble. “Go to sleep.” It sounds as if he might have just put a pillow over her head, and River finds herself grinning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shiang Jing Ping- nuts  
Mei- little sister


End file.
